Flyboy
by DiscipleShan
Summary: A young cadet experiences a rude awakening in the form of combat with Humanity's worst foe, the Covenant. But this is not all he has to worry about... First he has to get through Calculus. Rated M just to be on the safe side.
1. Chapter 1

March 3, 2532 (UNSC Calendar)

New Alamo, Hercules, Zeus System

"Quinn?" My mother calls from down the stairs, "Come down for dinner!" I open my eyes and look at the clock next to my bed. Eighteen hundred. I sigh and roll out of bed, shuffling my incomplete homework off my chest to the floor.

_I hate math,_ I grumble to myself mentally. I leave my room and step into the bathroom directly across. The light automatically flickers on as I wet my hand to fix the pillow induced cowlick. How my suede hair managed to mess up at such a short length always confused me. I sigh and slouch slightly. Math always had a tendency to put me to sleep. Being fifteen and in an advanced calculus course is my own damn fault. It came to me so naturally but it bores me half to death. I dry my hands and rub the sleep from my eyes. My blue-grey eyes shift in their gaze from shoulder to shoulder, eyeing the fabric of the lieutenant bars on the shoulders of my uniform. I proceed to beat the wrinkles from my trousers and jacket.

Satisfied with my repair job I leave the bathroom and stomp down the stairs, light shutting off behind me. I shuffle into the kitchen and take my place between my mother and father – at least where he is supposed to be.

"Where's dad?" I scoop some mashed potatoes and slap it onto my plate.

"Still at the office. He has been swamped recently," By 'office' she means the branch that ONI planted right here in the Zeus system, Hercules system. Being a fortress world in the early stages of development, you better believe ONI has its grubby little fingers in the pie.

With less than ten percent of the population that had zero ties with the UNSCDF, it is a highly loyal outer colony. If you are a parent and have a child, you more than likely send them to a military academy. My brother had graduated from a mechanized infantry academy, as it fit his capabilities and in-born talent. Meanwhile, the parents either teach at an academy or work in building up the planet to the similar glory of Reach.

While my mother is a linguist for the academy I attend, my father works on the less public side of building up this planet. He most recently has been kept late into the night by his superiors to finish a project, a "super-secret" one as my father would have described it to me when I was younger.

"How is your physics course coming along? Colonel Hakiim says you are a natural." Mom refocuses. I roll my eyes.

"Its _astro_physics, mom, and it is a fuck-ton harder than physics."

"Watch your language!" She gasps. I recite it again except in the Mandarin equivalent. She huffs, displeased with my choice of words, but too satisfied with my mastery of Mandarin to continue her scolding me.

"Regardless of what it is called, are you enjoying yourself?"

I shake my head with a mouthful of roast beef. "Its math, mom," I swallow, "I hate math. Why put me in a program that I hate when I can just as easily be an Infantry-cadet like the rest of my friends?"

"Because the rest of your friends can't calculate a slingshot maneuover in their head, Quinn."

It is a tired argument. Why can't I be with my friends? Because you're a fucking genius, Quinn. Why can't I choose what _I_ want to do? Because your talents are needed elsewhere, Quinn. Fucking bullshit.

I stand up abruptly and slap out the wrinkles from my Naval service uniform trousers. "I'm not hungry anymore." I make my way out of the kitchen and through the living room to the door. I hear my mom slam her silverware down and growl in frustration. _Yeah, me too, mom._ I remove my cap from the coat rack and leave.

Closing the door behind me, I look west. The sun is setting and my breath crystallizes in the dying light. Autumn would soon arrive, and with it the change in leaf colour. Unlike on Earth where all the leaves turn yellows, red, and oranges, the leaves on Hercules turn into a deep purple. From atmosphere the purples and the light greens from the hemispheres blend in swirls at the lush, dark green equator, giving it a rather unique look. I thought it looked beautiful when I saw it. My father showed me a picture on the internet when I was seven. I would spend hours looking at pictures after that.

I smile at the memory but it turns into a grimace. Dad isn't around much anymore, always working on some stupid ONI project. He missed my promotion to Lieutenant last week after the drill competition because he was called to go in to work. What could be so important that he had to leave in the middle of my squad's performance? He can't even tell us what he is working on. I can understand secrecy in the face of the Human-Covenant War and the Insurrection but both have yet to show their faces in this part of the galaxy. But I'd rather have some sort of explanation for why he'll not come home and disappear for days at a time.

I shiver as the last of the light transcends the curve of my side of the planet. I pull my double breasted service coat together and button it.

Inside I can hear the telephone ring. My mother answers it and all goes quiet for a moment, minus the native species of insects. The door opens behind me.

I turn and I face my mother, eyebrows raised in hope. "Your dad isn't coming home for about a month this time," She sighs. I repeat the gesture, hopes dashed. That's the longest he has ever had to stay at work. Maybe a week or three but never any longer than that.

"Did he say why?" I ask, confused.

"It was Vasilik. I couldn't even get to talk to your father. But you know why, Qui-" She begins to say but something in the west catches her attention. She steps out and I redirect my gaze to her line of sight.

A light in the west grows, a white and blue light. At its brightest, a beam of the light tears into the sky, almost looking solid as it cuts through the atmosphere into space. Then we hear it. A gargantuan crack of supersonic proportions shakes the leaves on trees and rattles the glass of houses. Car alarms go off and dogs bark as our neighbors come out to investigate.

Dear God, why did it have to come from the west. "I think we know why he has to stay now," Mom says softly. I stand there stunned by what I had just seen.

Holy shit.


	2. Chapter 2

***Authors Note: Hello, everybody! I apologize for completely dropping off the face of the planet! I have no idea how people can write **_**and**_** do college at the same time. I pounded this out mainly in the last week. But most of it I had to write and then rewrite because of the fact that I kept losing my work. This would happen because I kept leaving my notebook places and then never finding it. But finally my work has come to fruition. A good thing too! Anyway, I own absolutely nothing in this! I should have said that the first time around too…. Oh well…. Let me know how I did!**

**~Disciple Shan**

March 4, 2532 (UNSC Calendar)

New Alamo, Hercules, Zeus System

0530 Hours

The alarm clock blares, shaking me from a deep sleep. I slap haphazardly at the noise until I find purchase. Sweet silence greets me. _Gotta get moving._ I roll out of bed and slip on some briefs before making my way to the bathroom.

Passing the stairs I note the soft, flashing glow of the television. Mom must've fallen asleep. She had sent me to bed with the promise of waking me up if any information surfaced about last night's lightshow. Either she missed it or she had fallen asleep waiting for nothing.

I shake my head as I enter the bathroom. I activate the shower via touch controls on the mirror. Seconding as a computer screen, I pull up a log in screen and access the internet. I expand a news window and shift it into the corner of the mirror.

While it loads I examine myself in the mirror. I'm slim, slightly muscular, but also slightly behind my peers in physical development. _Fuck you too, Puberty._

I slide the now loaded news window to the mounted datapad in the shower and I get in. The spray douses me from the four corners, effectively soaking me without any effort on my part. As I soap up I scroll through various stories that range from Covenant encounters in UNSC territory to gossip about local celebrities. Not a damn thing about last night graced the internet. ONI is good at covering their tracks, but this is uncanny.

I 'ex' out of the official news site and open a new window for an alternative "news" agency. In all reality it is just a blog, but it wrote about everything that the UNSC refused to write about. It has an unfortunate anti-government swing to it but it doesn't conform to insurrectionist values. It is good ol', pure, anarchist rhetoric. Because of this, the UNSC leaves it alone.

Mid-rinse I tap on a video by one of the site's bloggers and lower the volume. He has an annoying tendency to start yelling when he gets excited. The video opens up with a classic "Breaking News" screen.

"Gooood morning, ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between! It is zero-three hundred hours and I'm your host: The Laser Mayor! Last night we had a _very_ interesting development just west of New Alamo on the continent of Apollo! This just totally blew away anything and everything that I was going to talk about later today! I just needed to make an update! We have reports about the not-so-secret ONI installation firing some sort of blue beam into the sky! We even had one dedicated viewer send in what they caught on video!"

A brief clip for the event plays out and I can only chuckle. The cameraman caught the tail end of the fireworks and was gasping in exaggerated awe. The blogger comes back with an outrageous look on his face.

"Can you believe it? This is the only submission that we have had-" The video cuts out and the website goes blank. An error screen emerges in the white stating that the website is "Temporarily Out of Service." I would have laughed had it been any other event I was looking up, but this just made me frustrated. I try to reload the page but am met with the same "Out of Service" message. I shut the datapad down and continue to scrub.

It seems ONI has gotten to them too. _Maybe I should start wearing tin-foil hats… They're probably trying to figure out how to erase this from my mind too._ I replay last night in my head, every detail worth remembering precisely categorized. Last night I had gone over this again and again. The airburst resulting from the "projectile" called for supersonic speeds. _Could it be a weapon? No._ It dissipated once it reached a certain elevation. Common sense would suggest a test like that would not have been made so publically if it had such a short range. It also wouldn't have been shot into open space like that. It would have kept going if it was a projectile anyway. It would have remained as a signal fire in the night sky for a time.

As bright as it was and the range it had, it could have been plasma, but the UNSC doesn't possess plasma technology. Our tech gets as advanced as the Super-MACs that are anchored in geosynchronous orbit above the planet. _Another reason why it wouldn't have been shot into the open sky. _Then what could it have been if not a weapon? A beacon, perhaps? As bright as it was, that would have made sense, but it didn't last as long as a signal flare would, and it travelled far too fast for it to be used in that manner. As brilliantly as it had appeared, it dissipated in a contrastingly unspectacular way. This is all without mentioning the fact that it seemed to ebb in an almost fluid radiance. Would the weather stations have picked up some sort of phenomena in the area? Did it put off any radiation? This is far too complicated for-

A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts.

"Are you almost finished in there?" My mom asks drowsily. I grunt in response. Finishing up drying, I wrap the towel around my waist and grab my tooth brush and toothpaste. Opening the door I quickly whip past her, anxious about being so exposed.

A mumbled "thank you" sounds behind me as I close my bedroom door, locking it as I do. I let my towel drop on my way to the dresser to find a fresh pair of skivvies. How long would it be until ONI releases a cover story? No doubt this will be the "thing" to talk about at school. _How much disinformation would be bred there?_

The academy encourages discipline and accurate intelligence reporting. This delusion is replaced with your typical teenage bullshit; whom is screwing who and what scandal the Cadet Brass have gotten themselves into. I can only assume the rumour mill will be in overdrive.

I don my uniform in a well-practiced manner, smoothing out wrinkles where they manifested in the night and pinching the creases back into shape. With a quick look in the mirror my door I style my hair and make my way downstairs.

I glance at the clock on the mantle in the living room as I turn the corner into the kitchen. _Not enough time for breakfast._ _I must've spent too much time striking awkward poses in the mirror._ In a dash I brush my teeth and swish some water. With a spit, I grab a FuN bar (Full Nutiritional Breakfast Bar) with my book bag whilst taking long strides to the front door. I snatch my service cap and motorbike helmet off the coat rack and head for school.

~oOo~

Junior Cadet Naval Academy, New Alamo

0623 Hours

I pull my helmet off as I yank my keys out of the ignition. The smooth hum of the bike's hydrogen engine ceases. I take a deep breath of the brisk morning air and I look around. First one here, just like normal. The wide expanse of the parking lot would fill by 0700, making it hell for anybody who hadn't gotten here in time.

I switch out my helmet for my cap on a hook on my book bag and dismount. I lock the steering column with a grunt as I hear another motorbike's smooth hum approach in the distance. I check my phone. 0625, right on time. It seems recent events haven't changed the grind of things too bad.

A man on a slim motorbike similar to mine slows to a stop in an adjacent space. I snap to attention and salute as he dismounts. A muffled sigh comes from the masked cadet.

"You always salute. You know you don't have to until someone else shows up, right?" He plucks his helmet off and returns the salute half-assed. Commander Leo Capri spits in his hand and attempts to fix his white-blonde hair. I look into his strange cyan eyes and smile with a nod.

"I understand, sir. It just makes me feel better," I confide.

"About what?"

"About my chances for getting that next promotion, sir."

"Shut your dumbass up," He shakes his head with a smile. I chuckle to myself and stagger my stance.

~oOo~

0645 Hours

"So how is your brother, Lieutenant?" I look into the orange-hued morning sky and put on a protected face. The sun had shifted and cadets were now milling about the marble-pathed courtyard. Leo and I sit beneath a marble statue of an American Civil War Union cavalryman on a bench of identical material. Not the most comfortable, but a damn cool hangout. I sigh.

"My family hasn't received any news from that part of space in a while. It just seems to have gone dark. The Covenant probably own it right now, sir."

"Doesn't mean he didn't get out in time, Quinn. Your brother is a bad-ass tanker." I nod. Don could have very well have made it out on a fleeing frigate, but we would have had contact made by now. As a man in the UNSC Army, he would have been some of the first troops to go toe-to-toe with the seasoned Covenant war-machine.

"All I know, sir, is that he was holding a line in support of a Marine el-zee. From the letters he sent shit was getting really bad." A moment of silence passes between us.

"I hope you get news, Lieutenant." With that my sinuses tighten.

"Speaking of news, anything on your application for promotion yet, sir?" I quickly change the subject. No time for waterworks.

"I actually needed to talk to you about that," He opens his mouth to continue but closes it back up again, "On second thought I feel it would be best if I let Staff Brass fill you in on the details. They're probably going to talk to you within the week." He rubs his chin thoughtfully, squinting as the morning sun pokes out from behind some wispy clouds.

I grunt in acknowledgement, uncomfortably shifting my seated position. _Joy. _The Staff Brass is typically a conglomerate of instructors in the academy of whom are charged with Cadet Brass organization. They set the example as to what a command structure should look and feel like. They're a 'fun' bunch to hang out with. Another moment of silence passes.

"How is your dad? Did he call after what happened down at his office?"

"I-I really have no idea- I mean…" I stammer.

"Relax, Lieutenant. The fact your dad works for ONI is safe with me… And the rest of the Squadron Commanders," He whispers, "As a matter of fact, it is actually a good thing. Nobody told you about the weekly meetings Flight leads and Squadron Commanders have in our Group, did they?" _What else does he know?_

I shake my head, "I've only been a Flight lead for about week. Not much is being shared to me so far. The others are avoiding me like oil on water."

The Commander chuckles, "Well you did make quite the splash with being the youngest Lieutenant out of the four Academy Wings. A Sophomore Lieutenant, it's not something that was intended to happen."

"So they don't see me as legitimate? Would they replace me if they could because of me being a Sophomore, sir?" I ask, slightly disgruntled by the turn of the conversation.

"You are an officially sanctioned Cadet Lieutenant, Quinn. They couldn't replace you unless you screwed up in a bad way," Leo dismisses, "This is beside the point I was trying to make. Making a mid-season transition is difficult especially when you go from non-comm to comm. There are going to be some wrinkles that need smoothed out. In all the chaos of getting these new responsibilities you probably just weren't informed. It isn't anything against you."

I snort. I know better than that but it feels good to hear him say otherwise. I know I made a couple people upset. The position of Lieutenant was a highly coveted position among the older non-comms in the flights. For me to get that rank was unprecedented in the face of the competition I had. It was sure to put some people off. Especially because I am generally looked upon by the others as Leo's personal ass-kisser.

"So what were you saying about these meetings?"

Commander Capri clears his throat and speaks in a whisper, "Each Squadron collects intelligence reports from the Flight leads and is then forwarded to the Captain. The Captain will sift through it with the Squadron Commanders and then distribute between us what is determined as accurate and usable intelligence. You, Quinn, are quite the resource."

"So with my connection to my father as an ONI employee, you believe I know some things that others don't? That is where you are unfortunately mistaken, sir. And how did you know where he worked and what he does? I don't even know that, Commander." I lie.

"And you just confirmed what I was guessing to be true. Your dad _is_ an ONI employee."

"Wait, you were _guessing_?"

"Well as a Group we had our suspicions. But I just needed to know for sure. And with the recent event there is sure to be a need for intelligence. You have a direct connection to someone who works there. What _do_ you know about last night, Quinn?" He queries.

_ Oh, man. I could get in some serious trouble._ I begin to rattle of my analysis with the Commander listening intently.

~oOo~

War Simulation Center, JCNA

0743 Hours

"Officer on deck!" The Captain of First Group of the 32nd Class Wing barks out. With a click of sixty-one boots, the room stands at attention at their assigned simulators. Our instructor, an older African- American fellow of a short stature took to a podium at the front of the room. His lapels shine with the heavy rank of Colonel. He stands under the dimmed lights inspecting us for a brief moment. With the faint hum of the simulator's fans as the only noise in the room, you could hear a pin drop.

"At ease, Cadets!" The man belts out in a hoarse bark, "Take your seats and start up your sims." The room simultaneously sits down and straps themselves in. With a pneumatic hiss, a dome of viewscreens encapsulate me. The screens turn on as I situate my headset and eyepiece.

In a flash I'm placed in the hanger bay of a UNSC Carrier-class warship with my HUD calibrating for an atmospheric entry pattern. _Oh, joy… What could we be doing today?_ A notice on my communications pops up and I tap on it. It expands on the viewscreen to reveal a series of bullet pointed objectives:

_Main Objective: Defend the Charon-class Frigates' insertion and deployment. _

_Maintain Marine casualty rate below 50% before total deployment._

_ Secondary: _

_Maintain D77-TC Pelican detachment casualty rate below 10%_

_Maintain Air Superiority for twenty consecutive minutes_

I can only smile. The last simulation had us keep the casualty rate of advancing ground forces below thirty percent. This has to be a joke.

The comms turn on and we're given a diagram of the transport convoy labelled where each flight is to defend. My flight has been assigned as rear guard along with Gaza flight. Between the sixty-one Longswords of 1st Group, we have to defend the insertion of a Marine Brigade hitching a ride on three light frigates and a number of Pelicans. What could go wrong?

I initiate a systems check and open comms to my flight, "Dagger-One to Dagger, all systems are green. Ready-up and let's get this show on the road!"

"Dagger-Two, in the green," Ensign Chuck Wicket confirms. Chuck is an excellent pilot. He is serious, analytical, and ready to lay down the law. If a job needs done, this is the man I can rely on.

"Dagger-Three, ready." Senior Chief Petty Officer Smitty 'Smitten' Dawson copies. Chief Smitten is a romantic, a joker, and a great friend. This guy is vastly intelligent, but his grades don't show it. He lacks discipline, but he is capable of anything he puts his mind to.

"Um, Dagger-Four, all green, sir," Chief Petty Officer Howard Loyd calls back. I open my communications to Command. CPO Howard isn't what I would call a nervous man, but rather a cautious man. He always has a plan 'B' if shit goes down which makes him a valuable member of our team as a strategist.

"Dagger-One to Command, we are ready to roll, over."

"Copy, Dagger-One. Prep for launch in thirty seconds," A 'dumb'-AI responds. I open a Dagger's comms to Commander Capri.

"Dagger-One to Razor-One, ready to see you name drop from the top score, Commander?" I taunt. Commander Leo Capri's Razor flight is the first flight in the thirty-eight years of this school's existence to maintain a zero death count for sixteen simulations in a row. Dagger flight is just one sim behind.

"I hate to burst your bubble, Lieutenant, but I don't think that is going to happen today," I can hear him sneering, "But what you can do is try not to fall behind."

"We're way ahead of you, sir. We've got the best seats in the house to watch you get swatted out of the sky, sir!" Smitten snarks.

"In the back of the class like always, Senior?" Razor-Three teases. Leo must've opened his comms up. I smile at the heckling. A little bit of friendly competition always drives our teams to do their best. It also helps that between our two flights, we clock a fourth of the school's total practice hours in the sims. My interaction with Dagger is still a bit awkward though. Chuck was convinced- like many other Ensigns- he would land the spot for El-Tee, but it was given to me. Our social interactions will need reworked, but we are still a team.

"Why do I remember always seeing you back there with me, Timmy?" Smitten bites back.

"Why are you admitting to that, Senior?" I laugh. A timer 'boops' for the ten seconds until launch. "You should be in the front setting an example."

"An example of idiocy? What good would that do to our reputation, sir?" Chuck butts in. Razor laughs as the Senior Chief gasps.

"I thought we were on a team here, guys!" I cut the comms with a smile. The last three seconds sound out in my cockpit and Dagger is launched out into the dark void that is space. My hands dance on the controls as I lead my flight to the stern of the frigates.

"Alright, time to concentrate, boys. Dagger to Gaza, do you read?"

"Good morning, El-Tee," Leader of Gaza, Ensign Moriarty, greets me. As flights go, Gaza isn't the worst. But they do have a tendency to be a tad unprofessional and even chaotic in their tactics. This more often than not leads to casualties in their team, "Ready to mop up some covies, sir?" He stresses the 'sir'.

_Ugh… Why does he even try to play nice? _"That is exactly what we'll be doing, Gaza-One. You won't disengage from your position unless ordered. Do you understand?" I pull rank. "We can't afford sloppy work in protecting those engines."

"Uh, yes, sir," He stutters for a moment. The comms go dead. I snort. I probably ticked him off. I watch on my viewscreen as Gaza gets in position and then remains there. I change the camera views and note the approaching Battle Group getting ready to punch a hole in the Covenant blockade over the landing zone. I glance as the blockade and sigh. _This might be tougher than we thought._

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen. We are cleared to move forward," The Captain informs us, "Captain Raymon to Battle Group, we are in position."

"Copy, Captain. Follow us in." The dumb-AI plays its part. A number of cruisers and heavy frigates with the Carrier on the rear shoot past us in a strong arrowhead formation. In a moment, the frigates and Pelicans containing close to ten thousand marines begins to tail close behind.

"Let's do this as smooth as possible, Dagger. I want-"

"Multiple Cherenkov spikes, sir! Something is-" I tune out Dagger-Two and check my own gauges. Sure enough, several large slip space ruptures appear with long bulbous craft poking out.

"Captain, we've got-"

"I know, Lieutenant. I'm redirecting a couple frigates to cover our back side. Maintain position!" He interrupts me. I growl as I watch hot blobs of plasma rush past me and melt through a number of unfortunate Pelicans. My radar pings as a multitude of enemy fighters enter range. As I watch my viewscreen two heavy frigates race to engage the new threats, each of them using all of their faculties. One scores a hit on the bow of Covenant cruiser with a MAC round but is deflected by shields. The other gets hit with a plasma torpedo on its starboard. The frigate's battleplate holds but multiple guns explode outward as their munitions ignite.

A number of Seraphs swarm the disabled frigate. In one last hurrah is releases a salvo of archer missiles at the fighters and fires a MAC round. It punches through the Covenant Cruiser's shields in a dazzling display of light and cuts through the bulbous head. The enemy releases another salvo of plasma and envelopes the damaged craft. The frigate explodes and sends plasma laden debris out to its partner.

The second frigate dodges but gets hit with its own set of plasma. A couple Seraphs move to engage the frigate but most break off and make their way to our position. _Well that sure did a lot of good. Two frigates down and nothing gained. _

"Captain, I've got Seraphs incoming. Permission to engage."

"You've got a green light, El-Tee. I'll call you back if I need you."

"Engage the approaching fighters, Dagger!" As one we break off and speed toward the alien craft. Almost immediately fire is traded. All eight of Dagger's 110mm guns burp out round after penetrating round. Shields break on two of the oncoming Seraphs and are chewed to scrap. The others dodge and return fire, releasing deadly lances of superheated plasma. In a jerk of the joystick I tilt to avoid oncoming fire.

The remaining Seraphs blaze past us and head straight for their objective. As we trained, Dagger breaks off into teams – Dagger-Three with me and Dagger-Two and Four together.

"Firing missiles," I call out. Four ASGM-10 missiles impact a Seraph in its tail, destroying its shields and hitting its engine. The craft breaks apart in a ball of blue flame and causes its ally to swerve. Dawson opens up on the disheveled alien. Its shield flares for a moment then pops like a thin layer of ice. Close behind it, two of Dawson's missiles turn it into space junk.

Dawson woops in victory as we pull around to a new set of Seraphs. They are close enough to our frigates now that they begin to fire torpedoes.

"Take out those shots, Gaza!" I order. After a moment of costly hesitation, the flight begins to move. One torpedo impacts a Longsword, effectively turning it to scrap. The others impact the thick back end of the frigates or turn Pelicans into fire balls. Gaza engages the offending Seraphs, leaving

"Dagger, Gaza, keep those Covies off our rear! We're pushing through the blockade now! Follow us in!" My Captain yells over the intercom. Something isn't going right up front.

"Dagger, form up!" I hit my afterburners and pull in just aft of the frigates. Then I see it- How could I have not? Human and Covenant warships trade close-quarters fire as fighters dance in the dazzling show of force. In the chaos three Charon-class frigates and dozens of Pelicans pass between, opening fire upon anything in our path. The forward-defending Longswords parry and divert any attackers, breaking off to engage and exterminate.

"Dagger, I need you to – Gah! – cover the insertion and deployment! The remainder of Squadrons One and Two are going to create a filter and give you some time! You will be the last line of defense, Lieutenant! You have operational command of what is left of Squadron Three upon atmospheric entry! Commander Leo has command up here! My bird took a hit and-" The Captain's mic cuts out.

I immediately open a comm to the Commander, "Did you catch that, Skipper?"

"I got it, El-Tee! Proceed with the plan. Get those Leathernecks down there as safe as possible! Got that?"

"Yes, sir!" I close the comm and open one to Squadron Three. Meanwhile I speed with my team through the center of the frigates and lead the charge, "Squadron Three, form up on my six! We're guiding them in, acknowledge?" Three green lights and two yellow blink between the five Flight leaders. I open a direct link to the yellow responders.

"Rotary, Hershey, are you being engaged?" I ask. A duo of Seraphs cut through in front of me and start to harass the Pelicans. I signal for Two and Four to intercept.

"Negative, Quinn. We just can't figure out why the Captain would leave a green El-Tee in charge. This isn't even your Squadron." Hershey lead responds. A mocking green light from Rotary starts a fire in my belly.

"Are you fucking kidding me? We're on the verge of this operation completely falling apart and you're throwing a temper tantrum because Raymon isn't kissing your ass? You _will_ fall in and you _will_ obey my command, or _I will personally blow you out of the goddamn sky_! Do you acknowledge, Flight leads?" With a click the comms go silent.

_I dare you to disobey… Come on, make my day. _A tense moment passes and two green lights blink simultaneously as fourteen Longswords form up on my rear. I let out air I didn't know I was holding in. While I wouldn't have minded carrying out a smack-down, it would have seriously hurt the operation.

"El-Tee, we have a problem," Wicket's voice squawks in my earpiece.

"Go ahead, Chuck."

"It seems some Seraphs have made it past the Commander. We're being engaged, sir," Wickets usual calm voice is replaced with one with a quiver. He's nervous. The Ensign is one frosty guy. Something else must be happening as well.

"Royals, set scanners for near the landing zone. Map out the situation on the ground," I order. A green light blinks, "Ensign, what's your status?"

Wicket takes a moment to respond. I check my cameras and watch him and Loyd conduct a deadly dance with four Seraphs. With clever maneuvering and liberal amounts of lead they render two of their pursuers to balls of blue flame. Now they have the upper hand.

"Sorry, sir, what?"

"I asked, what's your status?"

"The Covenant are breaking the Battle Group, sir. They'll only hang on for so much longer. We need to get these troops landed fast, sir!" He puffs out, almost breathless. Two more Seraphs join up with the other two, replenishing their numbers. I growl in frustration. Wicket's and Loyd's maneuvers are starting to get sloppier. They're starting to feel the pressure.

"Copper, support Dagger-Two and Four," I command. A green dot blinks on my indicator as two Longswords break off of formation. A report of the ground situation flashes one of my screens. I glance at it as I dance my fingers across the communications screen and open comms to the entire squadron. "Make your way back once those bogies are scrap, Ensign Wicket. Dagger-One to Squadron Three, we're entering atmosphere in one mike. Copper, maintain your defense of the Pelicans. Make sure they reach their dee-zee's in one piece. Rotary, you'll eliminate any air threats while Royals takes out those anti-air emplacements. Focus on those Anti-Ship guns, Royals. Hershey, your team is going to protect the Charons that are in flight pattern overhead while one of them unloads. Dagger, is it our responsibility to maintain the integrity of those tin-cans of whoop-ass. Oorah?" A resounding reply of 'Oorah' sounds over the comms as green dots flash across the board.

I take a moment for myself in the lull. I look at my viewscreens and watch as Covenant ship after Covenant ship take a hit and then doll it back out ten-fold. The steel battle plate of UNSC destroyers and cruisers erupt in flame and melt before my eyes. _So this is how our space battles go…_ My heart sinks for a moment. For years this is how our battles have gone. The Covenant would make an entrance and we would meet them in battle over our planet. The Covenant would land hundreds of thousands of soldiers on the surface while the Navy fights a losing battle just above. The UNSC Navy would hold out just long enough for the Marines to taste victory, then only be called back at the last second. This is probably what happened to my brother. Unless the Covies glassed the planet… I shake my head and swallow my feelings._ Later_, I promise myself.

My sim rig begins to shake as the planet's atmosphere takes hold of me and an altimeter appears on my hud. According to map I was given, there is only enough room for one of the light frigates to land at the el-zee at a time. The Covenant have three Type-27 Anti-Aircraft guns just over the frontline- which is a conveniently generated gorge with a river passing through at the bottom. The only way across is by air and three massive bridges of which neither side will risk destroying. In the meantime there is a major counter-offensive taking place that will require the elimination of numerous Wraith AA's in order to make more effective use of the three frigates' contingent of Sparrowhawks and Hornets. If the battlegroup can't hold their ground in space with the two squadrons supporting them, this strategy will be hard pressed to work. _I'll be damned if I fail my first command assignment of an entire Squadron._

The Longswords of Squadron Three begin to peel off to their objectives. The flock of Pelicans break off from the center of the formation with the last two members of Copper Flight providing excellent overwatch. They had eliminated the four Seraphs with little to no effort. _I wonder why they aren't at the top of the leaderboards with…_ I derail that train of thought as I remember that the head of Copper is a complete and utter fool.

The red dirt of the simulated Martian-like landscape is divided by a deep scar. On one side, a mass of green and grey human infantry and war machines pack around the three access points of the bridge with a line of trenches between them. On the other, an army that is easily twice the size of the entrenched UNSC forces build up behind a series of forcefield emplacements. Hidden in the rocks on either side are artillery emplacements. In the midst of traded volleys the distinct shape of Banshee fliers strafe the trenches. Without the added support of the Longswords, the boys on the ground would be surely screwed.

The landing zone was designated seven klicks away at a rocky outcrop that would hide a comparatively small frigate as they offloaded. In the meantime, Dagger would have to intercept any fast-movers. On approach, two of the three frigates break off with Hershey close-by. Their long-range guns blossom with high-explosive rounds at the enemy over the gorge. The frigate on escort lands and begins offloading hundreds of soldiers and tons of equipment. Hatches on the top of the frigate open up and numbers of Sparrowhawks and Hornets make their debut. They immediately fan out in the establishment of a perimeter.

A notification pings on my screen. My heart picks up its beat and I wipe my hands on my uniform.

"Royals to Dagger, we're getting massacred over here! Those Ay-Es guns are _not _going down! I repeat, they are _not_ going-" The comms cut and immediately switch to Royals-Two.

"Royals-One is down, sir! Rotary just got ripped to shreds by the Ay-Ay's! Permission to –Shit! Seraphs on approach!" Royals-Two's cuts out and into static. I open a link to Hershey lead.

"Hershey-One, do you have a visual on Royals?"

"Aye, Dagger-One. Royals-Three and Four have fallen back over the gorge and are now assisting Copper. Seraphs just dropped into atmosphere and a couple just turned towards us, sir." _Fuck! What happened to Squadrons One and Two?_

"Copy, Hershey. Maintain overwatch and await orders," I rattle off in as calm voice as I can manage, "Dagger, we're going in. Our objective is to eliminate those Anti-Ship-" A gargantuan bolt of plasma whips past us and a bright explosion rumbles in my ears. _Oh no…_

"Sir, we just got hit! Frigate Bravo is dust! Charlie is taking evasive maneuvers!" Hershey lead reports.

"I knew this was going to happen!" Loyd moans, "We need to get those guns offline! You should have sent more-"

"I know what needs to… I just…. We need to…" I can't think. How could the guns have recovered from the Longsword's harassment so quickly? Are they really that hard to put down? How did I not see that coming? My arms are frozen and my fingers are numb. As Dagger speeds toward the gorge multiple AA guns spew green flame at us. They explode when in proximity, shaking the simulator. A voice in the back of my head tells me to wake up, to give him a sit-rep…. What?

Reality shakes back into focus and Commander Leo is screaming in my ear. "Quinn! You are flying directly into hell, what are you thinking? Turn around and regroup on Hershey! Containment failed and we're going to have some company real soon!"

I shake my head, "Negative, Commander! We have to take out those guns or this mission will fail!" I roll to avoid a number of oncoming green blobs of plasma. I let out a burp from my guns in response, peppering a grouping of Wraiths.

"I gave you an order, _Lieutenant_! You will follow that order or you will face court-martial at the end of this sim!" I can't believe what I'm hearing. "Squadron Two is completely gone and there are only six 'Swords from One left! I need your support to keep these Frigates safe!"

"Sir, I respectfully refuse to follow that order! These guns need put down and nobody else is going to get it done! _They_ are the immediate threat, Commander! One of our frigates is already gone because I couldn't get them taken out in time!" I close the link between us. He is being so stupid right now. How could he not see that if these guns aren't eliminated, then there is no way we could hold off additional forces from above? Dagger makes a hard right heading up the length of the gulley and dancing between shots from Wraiths and Shadows. Two and Three let off some burps from their guns and wreck a line of Covenant infantry.

"And this is why I should have made El-Tee…" I hear Wicket grumble.

"You weren't made El-Tee because you follow orders too damn much, Chuck!" I retort rudely.

"And you don't follow enough of them!" He dishes back. Deep down I know this is childish, but it had to come out between us eventually. A moment of quiet passes between us. Howard groans as if to say: Why now? And as if almost on que, Smitten breaks the tension with some humor.

"_Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be-"_

"_Shut up!"_ Both Wicket and I yell.

"Woof! Tough crowd…" He trails off.

"We'll talk later, Wicket," I promise, "I need you and Loyd to hit one of those guns ASAP!" I hear a sigh on his end.

"Yes, sir. On me, Loyd." Together they break off and head for their own monster of an emplacement.

Closing in on the three-legged gun, I signal for Smitten to lay down some covering firing on the surrounding Wraiths. The massive gun moves slowly to my trajectory as I launch a missile at its base. I don't stick around to see the result as I let out additional shots from my 110mm cannon at some AA wraiths taking shots at me. I pull up sharply to avoid them. In that moment my systems flicker and my simulation cockpit heats up. _What the hell?_ I look at my screen and note one of my cameras are gone. I must've been skimmed. I look out the simulated window and spot the Type-27 shimmering in the sunlight with its base steaming. _Damn it! So that's why they wouldn't go down._

"These guns are shielded, Dagger-Two! Hit it with the guns and then missiles!" A green light blinks in acknowledgement. "Three, pump 'em with lead." Three breaks off from cover fire and immediately lays down some fire. The hot shells bounce off and explode on the now iridescent blue figure. I turn hard and lay down my own fire. Only a few seconds of combined fire and the shields snap like ice. We fire our missiles. Four metal darts meet their target in a plume of fire.

As we pull away from our approach and regroup I check my rearview. A slight breeze pulls smoke away from the structure to reveal a very functional weapon. A shot of plasma is released from the alien gun, pushing the remaining smoke away from its body. A warning blares in my cockpit.

"Fuck!" Smitten curses as we turn our wings to avoid the shot. The bottom of the gun opens up to reveal a bulb of some sort. Its bright color morphs to a darker shade then retreats back into the armored gun. The weapons coils energize and grow bright for a second shot.

"Disengage!" I command as a new round of plasma leaves the AS gun. I pull a buttonhook turn and spin to avoid the boiling plasma. I watch as the bottom falls out of the emplacement and time seems to slow. My palms sweat and my uniform sticks to my back. I readjust my grip on the controls and activate the guns.

110mm shot streams from my craft into the bulb of cooling energy. Like a hot knife through chilled butter, holes are torn into it like swiss. The bubble ruptures and travels up into the barrel of the gun, blue fire pushing out from cracks in the alien metal. It explodes. The shockwave shudders my craft and fire engulfs my viewscreens. I yell as the light cuts into my eyes and I pull away from the destruction. Caught in the heat, my cockpit blares a warning and tells me the ship has taken damage.

As soon as the chaos began, I escape from it. Blue sky enters into the simulated windows. _I must've pulled up at some point._ I sigh in relief as I notice Smitten screaming in my ear about how awesome that was. I examine my systems and note all my cameras are destroyed. Instead of the usual crystal clear image I'm met with a black screen and a _No Signal Input_ at the top corner. As I blink I chuckle. An image of the exploding Type-21 is seared into my retinas. _It could have been worse._

"Oh my gosh, Chuck, you should have seen it!" Senior gushes.

"I did, Senior Chief. Give me a moment, we're reengaging." The Ensign cuts the signal as I turn my Longsword back toward the battlefield. I watch as two Longswords buzz around another AS gun like bees. After a small dance they get their chance to sting. And sting they do. The alien emplacement explodes in a similar fashion as my own. "One left, Lieutenant. Its giving detachment Alpha's birds something to worry about." I sigh.

"Can you take care of it, Chuck? I'm practically flying blind. My cameras are done for," A green light flashes on my comm screen. "Guess I should report to the Commander…"

~oOo~

The simulation pod depressurizes with a _hiss_ and opens to the sound of victory-whoops. In a sweep of my head I survey the room. I meet eyes with Leo and he smiles._ Oh dear…_ I hop out and make my way over, weaving between other cadets and pods. I finally get to his pod stand there apprehensively as he finishes a conversation with the Captain. The Captain glances in my direction and I snap to attention. He waves away the formality with a flick of his wrist and walks away.

With a smirk he turns his attention to me and gives me a slap on the shoulder. "Why the long face, Quinn?"

"Sir, I'd like to apologize for disobeying your-" I stop as he shakes his head.

"You did what we all hoped you would do."

"W-what?" I stammer.

"Listen," He puts his hand on my shoulder, "What you did was disrespectful, rash, and downright stupid-"

"I told you I was sorry, man!" I say in a huff.

"Let me finish," He interrupts in a commanding tone. I zip my lip. "Your actions were deplorable. But you displayed courage, competence, adaptability, and most of all: leadership." Leo's eyes bounce to something behind me and then back. "I'll let the Colonel explain the situation. Sir." The Commander salutes. I do an about-face and give my own salute.

The short man returns the salute sharply and dismisses Leo with a dart of his eyes. "Come with me, Lieutenant, and we'll discuss why you are no longer just a candidate for the position of Lieutenant Commander. You're going to be Cadet Capri's replacement."


End file.
